His Favorite Scent
by Xennariel
Summary: Roy is injured during a mission and Riza carries him to safety, but he says something that throws her off and makes her wonder about the meaning behind his words.


The mission wasn't supposed to go this way. He wasn't supposed to get hurt.

Hawkeye grit her teeth and trudged forward, Mustang's body heavy on her back. The warmth of his blood seeping into her clothes spread like a fractal spiderweb across her shoulder blades. He was losing too much blood too fast and, if his unconscious state was any indication, he needed medical attention soon or he wouldn't be coming back from this. He had only been shot in the shoulder, but the bullet must have hit some sort of vital judging by the amount of blood pumping out of his wound and into her uniform.

The thought of losing him drove Riza forward, pushing through the pain from her own wounds, spiking up her side whenever she stepped too hard on her right leg. She was concentrating so hard on moving him to safety as fast as possible that she barely noticed when he moved a bit, his eyes cracking open ever so slightly. He moved his face to bury it into the fabric at her neck and nuzzled her, inhaling deeply. Riza definitely felt that and faltered in her step.

"Sir," she started, intending to ask how he was feeling and relieved that he was awake.

He spoke before she could finish, a murmur so quiet she almost had to strain to hear him.

"You smell nice…"

Her eyes widened a fraction in surprise when his words registered with her and she furrowed her brow, frowning and adjusting him on her back so his face was no longer pressed into her neck. If it had been under any other circumstances, she might have even blushed from the compliment.

"What kind of thing is that to say in this situation?"

Riza was astounded he could still spew out frivolous compliments in even such a dire time. He must have been delirious from the amount of blood he lost.

Roy didn't respond and moments later his body sagged again as his world returned to darkness.

 **000000**

Riza was never fond of hospitals. The bleach white walls and stark fluorescent lighting were too bright for her eyes. The medicinal smells that surrounded her as the stitching needle thread it's way through her skin reminded her of things she'd rather leave in the past.

She was _certainly_ not fond of needles.

The doctors cleared her to go home once they finished stitching the wounds on her leg and arm closed, but she insisted she remain with Colonel Mustang. Her excuse was that he needed his bodyguard to watch out for him should the people who shot him return to finish what they started, but deep inside she knew that was only a minor part of it. The real reason she wanted to stay was because she was worried about him and, until he woke up, she didn't want to leave his side.

The hospital staff eventually agreed to let her stay.

She pulled a chair up next to Roy's bed, making herself comfortable to prepare for the unknown amount of waiting time she would have to sit through until he woke up. The doctors assured her he would wake once the medicine wore off, but until he opened his eyes, she knew she wouldn't be able to rest. It was her fault he was hurt, her split second decision to turn away from him almost cost him his life.

In the early hours of the morning, as Riza sat half asleep, staring off in the direction of Roy's hand resting against the bright white sheets of his hospital cot, the colonel woke.

Roy groaned quietly and he made a face as he tried to move his stiff shoulder and arm. The noise reached Riza's ears and she was immediately alert. Looking up, their eyes met and a little smirk played on his lips at the sight of her worry-lined face. For some reason, the first thought that crossed his mind was that she was beautiful.

Remembering what happened, he quickly looked her over and his smirk turned to a frown when he caught sight of the stitches on her arm. Riza noticed where his eyes were lingering and she sighed, glad he couldn't see the stitches in her leg. She was fine and didn't need him fretting over her.

"You're hurt," Roy said, worry lacing his tone. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Colonel. Please worry about yourself more! How do you feel?"

Roy's gaze returned to hers and he attempted to shrug, only to gasp as pain shot through his arm.

He spoke before she could comment on anything.

"I'm feeling fine, really. I've had worse."

"Don't move too quickly," she scolded. "You'll reopen your stitches."

"Yeah, yeah…" Roy muttered, moving to get into a more comfortable position.

Silence stretched between them for a few minutes before Riza spoke again.

"You...Do you remember what happened after you were shot? What you said?"

Roy stared at her as she averted her gaze to stare out the window on the other side of the room. The moments ticked by and she couldn't bring herself to look at him again. Since when did Riza Hawkeye become so bashful around Roy Mustang? It was almost absurd.

Riza caught him fidgeting out of the corner of her eye and he made a quiet humming sound. He must have been trying to remember the events from that afternoon and when his breath hitched for a second, she thought he must have remembered.

"No, I...I remember passing out while I was on your back, but… That's it."

Riza finally looked back at him, surprise evident in her expression. She felt a mix of emotions at his response, but the most prominent feeling was one of disappointment. It was such a silly thing to feel disappointed about, but nevertheless, a negative feeling settled in her chest and she fought back a sigh, struggling to keep a mask of neutrality on her face.

"I see," was all she could manage and Roy looked at her with concern.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, sir, I just...thought I heard you say something while I was carrying you out of that place and I was simply wondering if you remembered what it was. It's not important."

Roy said nothing, but Riza caught the mischievous glint in his eye and he slowly sat up a bit and moved closer to her. She followed his hand as he reached up and brushed his fingers through her hair.

At this point, Riza was convinced the loss of blood was still affecting his state of mind.

"Sir?"

"Thank you," he said, voice sincere and tinged with longing she recognized and knew all too well. "Thank you for saving me back there, for saving me all the time, from everything."

"It's my job."

Roy gave her a look that said he knew it was more than that. She sighed, not even trying to deny it.

She didn't resist when his hand moved to the back of her head and pulled her forward against him. He held her close with his good arm and pressed his nose into the skin where her shoulder and neck met, taking a deep breath and smiling.

"You still smell nice."


End file.
